


My Missing Pieces

by luckystars921



Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: Family Drama, Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24735505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckystars921/pseuds/luckystars921
Summary: Joe Jonas & Tara Jameson.Two unconnected people living life in a habitual state of disconnect.Until they aren't anymore.
Relationships: Joe Jonas/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	My Missing Pieces

_A friend is a second self_

**_Aristotle_ **

* * *

Joe frowned out the window at the site of a torrential downpour hitting the streets of 5th Avenue outside. The sounds of his brother’s bickering in the living room of their suite drowned out the noise from cars speeding down the slick Manhattan streets – and was what had driven him into his bedroom to begin with. The rain was what delayed the second step he had planned.  
  
“Knock knock,” Joe scowled at the sound of his mother’s voice but schooled his features before turning to face her.  
  
“You know, that usually only works if someone actually knocks on a door,” he replied dryly, smiling to play it off as being fake annoyance. 

“Very funny,” Denise replied as she glanced around at the clothes tossed everywhere. “You get mad at your clothes?”

  
“Nope,” he responded and turned back to the window. “I was planning on going out. Then the sky opened up.”  
  
Joe felt his mother come stand next to him and perch on the large windowsill, her own eyes cast out towards the city. Before the silence could grow uncomfortable, she turned back to him and asked, “You okay?”  
  
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “Just…really tired I guess.”  
  
“Exhausted is more like it. It’s been a long year,” his mother agreed, reaching out and brushing his hair out of his eyes. “That’s what we’re looking to combat the next week and a half.”  
  
“Yup,” Joe agreed and rolled his eyes. “Combat a year long buildup of exhaustion by staying in a hotel in one of the busiest cities in the country. Totally makes sense. I mean, we had two weeks off. Why didn’t we just go home?”  
  
He heard his mother laugh and shake her head, “I’d agree with you normally but it’s more like, technically, you have two weeks off. It’s really only 5 days fully off-off in a row with nothing to do. The other days – they’re half days.”  
  
“Yea,” Joe agreed dryly. “Yea, mostly super early mornings after super late nights. Who made that scheduling decision again?  
  
“Not any of us, that’s for sure,” his mother reminded him, with a swat on the arm. “And you aren’t a huge fan of flying anyway soooo…did you want to stay in New York for three days, fly back to LA to do the press there, re-adjust to a timezone change, lay around playing video games for less days off due to travel time and then fly back here anyway? We’re trying to get you boys un-exhausted. Not make it worse.”  
  
Joe visibly pouted as he replied, “You with your logic and stuff.”  
  
“Yes, that’s why I’m the parent,” Denise agreed. “This way – you three took care of press for the book release right downstairs in a conference room without having to run all over the place. You had your afternoons free and now you have five days to do whatever you want. Your Dad and I are going to take Frankie to some of the Disney shows – you’re more than welcome to join us if you’re that desperate to find entertainment for yourself.”  
  
Joe shook his head, “No thanks. I’ll figure something out.”  
  
"Well, what were you going to do tonight?”

“Take a walk? Get some coffee. I don’t know, what do normal nineteen-year-olds do the week before Thanksgiving break starts?”

“Start freaking out over final exams that they will not study for while they’re home on Thanksgiving break,” his mother responded with a nudge of her elbow. “Seriously, whatever you do; don’t just stand here and stare at the rain. You’ll depress yourself. You could see what Nick and Kevin are planning on getting up to tonight? Admittedly, it’s probably going to be separately by the sounds of it right now.”

“Hard pass,” he muttered. Nick and Kevin had been snippy with each other all day to the point where his parents had both made Nick check his blood sugar on three separate occasions. Which had only driven his younger brother further into a bad mood. And subsequently Joe into the room he was sharing with Kevin. “The walk was so I didn’t have to listen to that anymore,” he added and pointed out to the living room of the suite. “Anyone figure out why they’re at each other’s throats?”

“Nick overheard your brother planning on heading to Jersey to stay at Danielle’s parents for a few days and now he’s annoyed we didn’t go back to Los Angeles too so he can see his girlfriend,” she replied with an eyeroll.

“Aweeee,” Joe responded, laughing out loud for the first time all day it seemed like. “Because Kevin’s serious adult relationship is remotely comparable to Nick’s puppy-crush on Selena. Of course.”

“Yea, Nick didn’t like when your Father tried saying something similar – albeit nicer Joseph. So, I would advise against teasing him right now.”

“Yea, I only look dumb,” he joked back. “When’s Kevin leaving?”

“He’s getting a car service to their place in the morning. He’ll be back on Friday with Dani. She’s got the weekend off work. Then she’ll go back on Sunday night and meet us at Newark to fly to Vegas on Friday.”

“So, why am I the last one to know this?”

“You’ve been in your own little world all day,” his mother reminded him. “Your Dad and I were giving you space. Anyway, the rain looks like it’s letting up; maybe you should get out of here for a bit. Get some air. Be a teenager…but not to much of a teenager.”

“Can I leave security? I can’t exactly be a teenager with a babysitter. No one knows we’re still in town. And they definitely don’t know we’ve been staying here,” he asked seriously. “I need a real break Mom.”

He watched his mother frown and glance down at the street and the total lack of fans. They had purposefully kept it vague to avoid being accused of lying; but had heavily implied they were leaving Manhattan yesterday. She sighed and finally nodded, “Fine. But you keep your phone on at all times. And don’t do anything stupid. Remember, not too much of a teenager.”

“Promise,” he responded with a grin. He quickly grabbed the wool peacoat he had left out with the intention of leaving almost two hours earlier before she changed her mind and raced out of the room. A second later he charged back in with a sheepish grin, pecked her on the cheek and grabbed the phone she had told him not to leave in the first place. “Bye Mom.”

* * *

The combination of an on and off rainstorm that had struck New York City in the last two hours and finals preparation was making Tara Jameson’s Sunday evening shift feel hours longer than it actually was. The Starbucks that she worked at, tucked away in a small alcove along Madison Avenue between 5th and 6th Avenues, tended to be slow after six in the evening, unless there was some type of event going on in the area; but in the year she had worked here she had never seen it quite this dead. A glance at her watch confirmed it for her; the last customer she served was well over an hour ago.

She could admit to one thing about the slow shift that was on the positive side – she had finished all the cleaning she had to do for closing. If she got someone in on the last hour and a half of her shift before she could close at ten all she would have to do was a quick touch up to whatever they touched.

Seconds later a loud thunderclap echoed through the city and was immediately followed by a waterfall strength downpour that she could hear echoing off the concrete from all the way at the counter

“Guess it’s raining again,” she commented out loud to the empty store eyes glued to her biology 101 textbook. “At least I’ll get out of here without having to deal with anyone else.” 

Needless, to say she was surprised, and mildly annoyed, when twenty minutes later the bell rang through the shop. She glanced up from the textbook she had been studying, leaning over at the wide pick up counter, to see a soaking wet boy, about her age, looking beyond aggravated.

“Wow. You’re really wet,” was all she could think to say when she saw him literally dripping onto the floor and almost laughed at the incredulous look she got as a reaction from him.

“Just a little,” he answered in a mildly sarcastic tone; and then glanced around the room. “Umm, you are open right?”

“Yea,” Tara responded, nodding. “Close at ten. So, you’ve technically got another hour before going back out there.”

“Well, that’s something at least,” he mumbled to himself and carefully peeled off the now heavy coat he was wearing and hung it up on a hook near the door before walking towards the counter, running his hands through his hair as he went. 

Tara grimaced, glancing at her no longer clean floor and with a sigh reached under the counter to pull out a towel. She merely handed it out to him over the counter as he reached her. Smiling back when his reaction was a burst of bright laughter.

“You look like you might need that more then coffee,” she commented with a shrug.

“Thanks, seriously,” he replied quietly and wiped his face off before running the towel over his not quite shoulder length hair. Hair that looked like it was trying to curl in on itself the longer it air dried. “Before I pick my order; it’s pretty dead in here soooooo, when’s the last time you put a fresh pot on?”

“About forty minutes ago,” Tara answered honestly. “My manager is kind of a stickler for fresh pots every two hours even if we’re like this.”

“Fantastic,” the boy responded with a tight grin. “Can I get a Venti Pike then?” he glanced behind him at the table with the usual additives for the coffee that Tara had cleaned up earlier and then added, “With a splash of half and half and 1 sugar please.”

“Sure, go down to the end. I’ll just give you the stuff at the counter so you can fix it how you like,” Tara answered and grabbed a cup. She kept talking, raising her voice slightly, as she poured the coffee, “It’s been super dead tonight with the weather and it being a Sunday so I might have cleaned up a little earlier then usual. Thanks for not being an ass about it.”

“It’s really not a problem,” he responded, also speaking slightly louder. “But a little bit earlier? You’re open for another hour.” he added the question with a raised eyebrow that just led to Tara shrugging and handing over his coffee.

“On the house,” she told him and pushed the sugar forward before grabbing the half and half pitcher out of the fridge. “Here,” she added, setting the metal pitcher down in front of him. 

“Wha? No,” he tried to insist, holding out a five dollar bill, and Tara just held her hand up. “Nope. I also did everything for the register just short of sending out the actual report on the credit card machine. Your two dollars is not going to screw up my math for me.” She watched in confusion as he stared back at her, still not fixing up his coffee with the half and half or sugar she had placed in front of him. “What?”

“So…the free coffee is because you already totaled out and not because of me?”

Tara blinked in absolute confusion at that statement and then shrugged, “I mean, I guess it’s a little ‘cause of you? I feel bad – you look like a drowned cat.”

“No. No…I mean, me as in me,” he repeated and held his arms out to his sides, actually wiggling his fingers like he was demonstrating ‘spirit fingers’. “Because you don’t have to. I’m special – but not that special. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

Tara frowned again, this time slightly annoyed, “Honestly no. It’s not because of you-you. Even if that did make sense. You’re also really not my type; in case that’s what you were getting at. And I won’t get in trouble.”

“That still tells me nothing,” was the only response Tara got; this time more exasperated then questioning.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about dude,” Tara replied, completely serious. “It’s just a cup of coffee. Don’t make it a bigger deal then it needs to be.”

“Holy shit,” he breathed out, looking utterly floored. “My name’s Joe.”

“Well, I thought it was nice to meet you Joe, then you went and made it weird. My name’s Tara.”


End file.
